


Now I'll be bold, as well as strong

by Kacka



Series: Kacka Does a Thing [19]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 21:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: Clarke would like to have uncomplicated emotions about running into Bellamy again, but her relief is tinted by the fact that she has to figure out how to tell him she has a kid (and that it's his).





	Now I'll be bold, as well as strong

**Author's Note:**

> for anonymous, who asked for "angst with a happy ending" oops here's a kid you don't know about fic
> 
> angst isn't my usual MO but i felt pretty angsty writing this so i hope it delivers. also i'm neither a parent nor a seven-year-old so read with a grain of salt!

"Latte for Bellamy."

Clarke's head snaps up embarrassingly quickly. It's not a common name, Bellamy, and while there's every chance in the world it isn't him, she can't bring herself to believe it won't be.

And then, of course, it is him. A little bit neater than when they were in high school, a little bit less cocky swagger and more genuine self-confidence in the way he carries himself, but it's undeniably Bellamy Blake. Her-- She doesn't even know where to begin explaining who he is to her.

She's staring, her own coffee cup hovering halfway to her mouth, and when he turns around his gaze is drawn to hers like a magnet. Like it always used to be.

He freezes.

And then a grin overtakes his face, brighter than anything she's ever seen, and _wow_ he grew up well.

"Clarke?"

She's out of her seat and wrapped up in his arms before she even registers moving, but he's clutching her tightly, firm and warm and solid and _here_.

"What the fuck," she says softly, her lips finding that perfect spot against his neck. He laughs and the vibrations echo through her in the best way.

"Eloquent as ever, Princess," he teases, squeezing her one last time.

"You were always the one who had a way with words," she says, and makes herself let go. He doesn't go far, stepping back and looking her over. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here." His lips twist into a smirk. "Sorry, is this city not big enough for the both of us?"

"Yeah, everyone who wants to move here has to run it by me first." She rolls her eyes, smiling fondly. It's as if they haven't missed a beat. "When did you-- How did you--"

"I moved here about a year ago. I teach over at West Mecha High." He jolts and checks his watch, flashing her a guilty look. "I actually have to get going, I have a meeting in like twenty minutes, but--"

"Give me your number," she says, trying not to analyze the mixture of disappointment and relief that flood through her.

He gives her another crooked smile, pulling out his phone.

"I was about to say that. You know it's not a competition, right? Exchanging contact information isn't a thing you can win."

"Not with that attitude."

He laughs and it makes something warm and heavy at the same time settle in her chest. Even after all this time, he's still Bellamy. Just as good as he always was. Maybe even better.

"I'll call you," she promises. His eyes rove across her face again, like he still can't quite believe she's really there, standing in front of him.

"You better." He hooks his arm around her shoulders and drags her in for another quick hug. "It's really good to see you, Clarke."

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "You have no idea."

* * *

After he leaves, she's too shaken and too distracted to get any more work done, so she goes to bug Raven at work. Sinclair waves her back when she gets there, used to Clarke passing by randomly to remind Raven to take her lunch break or to drop off Max when she has client meetings in the afternoons. As far as Sinclair can probably tell, today is nothing out of the ordinary. Which is unsettling to Clarke, as her entire world has been turned inside out.

"Hey." She kicks Raven's foot lightly, settling on a nearby stool.

"Hey," Raven says from under the car she's working on. It's just as well she can't see her face. She maybe won't notice how much Clarke is freaking out. "Is it noon already?"

"No." Clarke swallows. "I just ran into Max's dad."

There's a clang of metal on the concrete floor and then Raven is rolling out from under the car, incredulity and concern warring on her face. "Shit, really? Are you-- You're not okay."

"I don't know," Clarke admits. "I'm still processing."

"What do you need? A drink?"

"It's ten thirty."

"Yeah, and?"

"Maybe later," Clarke laughs weakly. "I just need to talk it out, I think."

Raven studies her seriously, then nods, resting her elbows on her knees. "Okay. So tell me about him."

"I don't even know where to begin." Clarke straightens the tools on the table next to her, nudging each one in increments until they're perfectly parallel. "He's-- He was my best friend, you know?"

"Yeah," Raven says softly, and Clarke thinks of Finn, thinks of how Raven probably does know.

Of course, Bellamy didn't hurt Clarke the way Finn hurt Raven. Finn chose to something different from what he had, while Bellamy's mom-- convinced that whomever she was running from, real or imagined (Bellamy was never quite sure), was about to find them-- tore him and his sister from their lives.

They'd never lived in one place for long, Ark longer than most. He'd seemed antsy in the days leading up to his mom's decision to run, as if he recognized the warning signs that she was pulling up her roots. He'd even gone so far as to mention it to Clarke, that if he didn't show up to school one day it was probably because his mom had moved them in the middle of the night.

It had seemed like a cruel twist of fate when, a couple of weeks after he left, Clarke discovered she was pregnant.

"He never tried to get in contact with you?" Raven asks, pulling her out of her memories.

"I have no way of knowing whether he tried, but it wasn't as easy back then." Clarke shrugs. "It was, what-- 2009? And they didn't have a whole lot of money. He shared a cell phone with his mom, and she changed the number. And right after that was all the stuff with the trial."

Jake had blown the whistle on one of a major software company late into Clarke's senior year of high school, not long after she found out she was pregnant. They hadn't had to go into full witness protection, but they were kept pretty sequestered for a few months. She always wondered if Bellamy had tried to email or call during that time, and hadn't gotten any response, whether he'd have assumed she didn't want to try to stay in touch.

"We weren't even dating or anything," she adds, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "We probably would have if he'd been around a few more weeks even, but we'd only just started hooking up."

"And then your lives went to shit."

Clarke nods. "That's one way to put it."

"And you just-- ran into each other today?"

"He showed up at Grounders." She gives a laugh that's too sharp. "He's lived here for a year and I had no idea. We could've lived a couple of miles apart our entire lives and never run into each other." The very thought makes her heart ache. "And all I could think today was _how am I supposed to tell you that you have a seven-year-old kid_." 

"It isn't your fault he didn't know. It's not like you never tried to tell him. There were major extenuating circumstances. If anything, it's his fault for not being on Facebook."

"It's not anybody's fault." She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. "What do I even say to Bellamy? What do I say to _Max_?"

Raven considers. "I think you should tell the dad first."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She purses her lips. "You've told Max about him, right?"

"Some. As much as you can explain it to a seven year old." She pauses. "I forget sometimes-- He just looks like my son to me, you know? He's his own person. But when I saw Bellamy today, I kept seeing Max in him."

"So tell Bellamy first. If he reacts badly, he'll have some time to adjust. And if he wants--"

"He'll want."

"--then you can set up a time for him to meet Max. That way when you tell the kid, you'll have a lot more answers and concrete information to give him, which will probably make him feel better. He gets that from his mom."

Clarke's eyes flutter closed. "What if he hates me? For not finding his dad sooner."

Raven grabs Clarke's hand and tugs her down on the floor beside her, wrapping her arm around her and bumping her brace against Clarke's knee. "He's not going to hate you. You're a good mom, Clarke. And his absolute favorite person in the world, at least until he hits his teenage years."

Clarke gives a laugh that's more watery than she would like. "What if Bellamy hates me?"

"Then he's an asshole," Raven says, easy. "I know you're you, so you're going to worry to death over all the things that could go wrong. But-- I want you to acknowledge that it might not go wrong."

It's a little bit unfathomable and a little bit dangerous, but Clarke can feel hope ballooning in her chest at the mere thought of how it could be. Whatever she and Bellamy had is far buried in the past, but having him back in her life, having him in Max's life, is a dream she never knew if she'd get to see realized. The next few months are sure to be tumultuous, but-- they could be good, too.

She exhales slowly, leaning her head on Raven's bony shoulder. "Is that drink still up for grabs?"

Raven's grin is out of her line of sight, but Clarke can hear it in her voice.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

By the time Max gets home from school, Clarke has found her footing a little. Raven was right-- having a concrete plan does make her feel better.

"Woah, hey," she calls when he races in the door and immediately starts up the stairs. He freezes, one of his shoes untied and his hair a tangled mess. "What am I, chopped liver?"

"I don't know what that means."

"It means say hi to Mom when you come in." He drops his bookbag on the stairs and thunders back down them, bouncing from one foot to the other in front of her.

"Hi Mom."

"Hey, bud. Did you say thank you to Aliyah's dad for taking you home?"

His eyes go comically wide again and he looks to one side. "Nope. Forgot. I'll tell him tomorrow."

Clarke smiles and pushes her glasses up. "I'm picking you up tomorrow, remember?"

"Then I'll tell him... whatever day." He waves his hand impatiently. "Can I go play at Ben's house?"

Clarke nods. "Let me call over first, but you probably can for an hour or so. Then we've got swim lessons, remember?"

Max makes a face. "Do I have to do that?"

"Nope," she shrugs, faking nonchalance. "But when all your friends want to go to the pool this summer and you have to stay where you can touch--"

"Fine," he groans, rolling his eyes in a manner that reminds her so much of Bellamy it throws her for a moment and she misses whatever he says next.

"Sorry buddy, what did you say?"

He sighs as if his mother is the most exhausting person in the world and pushes his hair out of his face. "I said can you call Ben's house?"

"Yes, I can. While I do that why don't you go find your swimsuit so we're not rushed later on?"

"Okay." She hears his feet thudding as he races up the stairs (he got a pair of sneakers with the Flash on them and has gone a mile a minute ever since) and feels emotion start to churn in her chest. He's such a great kid. Bellamy deserves the chance to know him, to start making up for all the time they've missed out on.

So before she calls his friend's house, she sends a quick text to Bellamy: _Lunch tomorrow?_

By the time she gets off the phone, he's texted back.

_Name the place. Noon okay?_

_Perfect_ , she responds, and sends him an address, trying to ignore the guilt and anxiousness welling in her gut. _See you then._

_Can't wait :)_

* * *

"Surprise, surprise, you're early and you're drawing."

Clarke startles. She'd been trying to distract herself sketching mock-ups for a commission but most of her mind refused to devote itself to the task, instead rehearsing what she was going to say and taking note of all possible escape routes. She flashes Bellamy a tight smile and discreetly wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans.

"Some things don't change all that much," she agrees, tossing a pointed look at his t-shirt, which proudly boasted that he was a member of the West Mecha High debate club. He looks down and then back up, grinning at her, and she doesn't think she can be held responsible for the way her heart flips over.

"I guess not," he agrees. "You ready?"

 _Nope_. "Yep."

They get tacos from a walk-up stand at the outdoor mall and wander, weaving between shoppers and glancing at window displays. Clarke peppers him with questions about his life, knowing that once she drops the news it's unlikely they'll get to circle back around to the topic.

She learns that he's not on Facebook, that Octavia is still out West, trying to make a name for herself as a stunt woman, that his mother died when he was twenty and he sold all her stuff so he could afford, with financial aid, to go to college.

"I thought about looking you up a couple of times," he says. His tone is casual but the way he's not looking directly at her feels pointed. "You always talked about going to Ark U, so for the first couple of years, I feel like I was looking for you everywhere I went."

Clarke laughs and ducks her head. "Yeah, I-- didn't end up there. I actually-- didn't go to college at all."

"Really?" He does look at her now, a frown etched into his features. "Why not?"

Clarke's stomach twists. There's no talking around it at this point. Not without feeling like she's lying to him, and she has no desire to do that.

"I got pregnant," she tells him, letting the thought of Max bring a genuine smile to her face. "I have a son."

Bellamy gives her an incredulous half smile. "You, Clarke Griffin, who called me in a panic the one time you accepted a babysitting job in high school--"

"For the millionth time, how was I supposed to know that dog food wasn't toxic? I could have killed that toddler!"

"What exactly is it you think dogs eat?"

"I don't know, I never had one," she grumbles. He bumps her elbow, giving her a soft smile.

"Tell me about your son."

Clarke bites her lip. "He's the best. I know all moms probably say that, but-- somebody has to be right, and I'm fairly certain it's me."

"I'm pretty sure that's a subjective thing," he teases.

"Nope," she says easily. "100% factual. He really likes school-- math mostly, but reading is a pretty close second-- and playing Phineas and Ferb with my friend Raven, and he's obsessed with superheroes right now. The Flash is his favorite but I took him to see Wonder Woman a couple of weeks ago so we've been on this Amazonian kick lately."

Bellamy grins. "He sounds awesome. How old?"

"Seven."

His face, always so expressive, turns confused as he starts to do the math. She's only twenty five, so he was probably expecting her son to be younger. She reaches for her phone, letting the lock screen pop up with a picture of her and Max.

Bellamy takes the phone carefully. She watches his eyes take in the similarities-- Max's dark curls, the freckles scattered across his Griffin nose-- and then the bob of his throat as he swallows hard.

"What--" He clears his throat. "What happened to his dad?"

"Bellamy--"

He shakes his head, cutting her off. His eyes are glassy and his jaw muscle is jumping.

"He's-- Is he--"

"He's yours," Clarke says, her voice very small. Bellamy inhales sharply, still staring at the phone. "I have more pictures if you--"

His head whips up and she sees anger in his eyes now. "How could you not tell me, Clarke?"

"I couldn't find you," she reminds him, trying to keep her calm. "I tried--"

"Not hard enough."

"What else was I supposed to have done? I was trying to graduate high school and trying to get through my dad's company's trial and growing a human in me all at the same time. And I didn't have a clue where to start looking."

"So you hire a professional. A private investigator. Your family had plenty of money to throw at a problem like this."

"I tried to hire someone. They didn't find anything and my money ran out." He scoffs and she narrows her eyebrows. "The court case ate up a lot of my parents' savings, Bellamy. And I was trying to prove to them I was ready to take care of a baby myself. I only had my own minimum wage salary money and it didn't last long."

He opens his mouth again but she holds up a hand to stop him, her anger turning to exhaustion.

"You have to know," she says, her voice lower, pleading. "You have to know I did the best I could. And you have to know I didn't want to do this without you."

He closes his mouth, the flare of anger in his expression dimming ever so slightly.

They stare at each other for a moment, Clarke returning his heated gaze with an honest one, and eventually he gives her a single nod. She reaches out and gently pries her phone out of his hand, unlocking it and pulling up the photos she had at the ready.

"You want me to tell you more about him?" She asks, tentative. Bellamy nods once.

"Yeah. That would be nice."

They perch on the edge of a fountain, Bellamy mostly quiet as she talks, sometimes asking a question here and there. She shows him the one of Max in his dinosaur costume from last Halloween; tells him all about the school play last year where he was so proud of his singular line that he practiced it for weeks and delivered it perfectly onstage; even gets a laugh from Bellamy when she tells him about losing him briefly at the zoo and finding him sitting by the puffin exhibit, dragging his finger across the glass and giggling as the bird swam back and forth to follow it.

"I want to meet him," Bellamy says, soft. "I want to be a part of his life. I want to be his dad, but--"

"Gotta start somewhere," she agrees. "I already checked our calendar."

"Of course you did," he says, laughing tiredly. "My schedule is pretty flexible until teacher workdays start. Maybe-- Is tomorrow too soon?"

"It's fine by me, but I'll need to see if he's ready so soon. He has camp from ten to two, but I was thinking we could maybe all go to the museum together? They've got a Roman armor exhibit right now and I think if we tell him it's like what Wonder Woman wears, he'll be pretty into it."

Bellamy smiles, small. "That sounds perfect." He drops his eyes to the phone, still clinging to it. "What did you tell him about me?"

"Whatever he wanted to know." She shrugs. "That you wanted to be there but couldn't. That yes, you would have made him eat his vegetables and it wasn't just me."

Bellamy snorts. "You tell him I used to make you eat a vegetable every now and then?"

"I'm his mom, I get to be a little bit hypocritical." She pauses. "I told him that having a mom and a dad isn't what makes a family. That it's about people who love you."

"I get that. I wouldn't want him to feel like-- you weren't enough. Like he was missing out."

"He was missing out," Clarke says softly. Bellamy's hand tightens on the phone. "He just didn't know it."

"I'm glad." He offers her the phone back and catches her hand when she goes to take it, squeezes. "We have a _kid_."

"Yeah." She grins and squeezes back. "We do."

* * *

She's still reeling a little from the conversation with Bellamy when she goes to pick Max and Aliyah up. The two of them keep up a constant stream of conversation the whole way to his carpool buddy's house, which gives her a delay for which she's grateful, but when it's just her and Max she feels that sense of urgency return.

He's already unbuckling his booster seat when they pull into the driveway but she catches him before he gets all the way inside and she loses him up the stairs.

"Hey, kiddo. I have something I need to talk to you about, okay?"

"Can I have a snack first?"

"Sure. Goldfish?"

He considers. "Do we have any gummies?"

"I think so. Go sit down at the table and I'll get them for you."

Once he's set with the Finding Dory gummies she eases into the chair across from him, resting her chin in her hand and watching him line them up on his placemat like he does when he wants to make a story out of it. She knows she has to tell him before he gets too distracted.

"Max." He ignores her, too focused on separating the Hanks from the Dorys. "Hey, Max, remember how I said I had something to tell you? Well it's a pretty grown-up conversation, so I need your attention, please."

He does look up at that. He's all about wanting to act like a big kid these days.

"Am I in trouble?"

"No, honey." She takes a deep breath. Time to rip off the band-aid. "I found your dad."

She watches him process this, gummies forgotten.

"Where?" He asks at last.

"At Starbucks."

"He's been at Starbucks the whole time?" He sounds dubious, and rightfully so.

"No, that's just where we found each other again. He wants to meet you. We're thinking about going to the museum tomorrow. Does that sound like something you want to do?"

Max wrinkles his nose. "A museum?"

Clarke's smile widens. "What's wrong with a museum?"

"Aren't dads supposed to play sports?"

"I'm pretty sure that's just in movies. Dads do all kinds of things with you." She pauses. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you both like museums a lot better than playing sports. You're like him that way."

He brightens. "I am?"

"Yep. But if you want him to play sports with you, I'm sure he'd do that too."

"No, we can do the museum." He pauses. "What if you're wrong and he likes it better when he wasn't my dad?"

"Oh, honey. Come here." He comes around the table and lets her put her arm around him, something he's been squirming out of more and more recently. "Listen, I promise you that he wants to be your dad. I thought he was going to steal my phone just because it had so many photos of you. He might not know you yet, but he already loves you. I'm really, really sure."

"Okay." He's quiet for a moment. "Can I go play?"

"Sure." She kisses his forehead and he does push her away this time. "Finish your gummies first."

* * *

Bellamy beats them to the museum and he's shifting restlessly from foot to foot when Clarke spots him. She points him out to Max, who slows down, shy, and drifts behind her a little bit. Bellamy scrubs a hand over his face when he spots them and stills. He lets them come to him, but when they get close enough he drops into a crouch to meet Max head-on.

"This," Clarke says, putting her hands on her son's shoulders and moving him in front of her. "Is Max. Max, this is--"

She breaks off, suddenly realizing none of them ever talked about what Max should call his father. Bellamy picks up her slack, holding out his hand for a shake.

"You can call me Bellamy if you want. Since you don't know me yet."

Max shrinks back into Clarke but puts his hand in Bellamy's fleetingly.

"Your mom has told me a lot about you," Bellamy says, giving Max an encouraging smile. "I don't know if you know this about her, but she really likes to brag."

"Aunt Raven says she won't play UNO with Mom anymore because she's too cocky."

"I see how it is," Clarke says with mock exasperation. "Bond over making fun of Mom."

"You can take it," Bellamy says lightly, not quite the same friendly teasing they'd managed the day before, but without resentment. That's something, at least. To Max he adds, "Did you know there's an exhibit here about the Romans?"

Max shakes his head.

"They have a bunch of weapons and armor," Clarke tells him, shaking his shoulder a little. "You know who else has that kind of thing?"

"Wonder Woman." He looks up at her, slightly more interested, and then back to Bellamy. "Do they have a lasso?"

"Probably not, but there will be some pretty cool swords," Bellamy says with a lopsided grin at Max that makes Clarke's heart ache in a good way. "You want to check it out?"

Max nods and she and Bellamy exchange a look over his head as they start toward the ticket desk.

"You like the Flash?" Bellamy asks, noticing Max's shoes. "I don't know anything about the Flash. Can you tell me about him?"

"I don't know," Max shrugs. "Like what?"

"Like where'd he get his powers from? Was he bitten by a radioactive cheetah or something?"

" _No_ " Max says, like it's the dumbest thing he's ever heard, and then he's off.

Clarke hangs back as the two of them walk through the exhibits together, trying to get a handle on her emotions. Bellamy is good with kids, always has been, but the way he's drawing Max out of his shell, engaging him in topics he likes to talk about, making him feel comfortable, is really impressive to her. He doesn't usually take to strangers this quickly, but there's something about the way he is with Bellamy that's just different.

It's the museum of history but its exhibits range from the colonial era to the Cold War, so pretty much solidly within Bellamy's area of expertise. He gets Max to read parts of the signs to him, patient as he sounds out the bigger words and adding in his own tidbits when he can.

The longer she sees them together, the more regret she holds that she didn't find Bellamy sooner. That he missed out on this for seven years, when he so clearly wants to be here with them.

Well, with Max. Just because he isn't glaring at her or giving her a hard time doesn't mean he's over the hurt. Just because he wants to be around his son doesn't mean he's forgiven Clarke.

By the time they finish up and make it back outside, it's getting to be evening. Bellamy looks as reluctant to leave Max as Clarke is to part them, so when Max asks if he's eating dinner with them and Bellamy tosses her a questioning look, she gives him a weary smile.

"Sure. I was planning to make spaghetti if that's okay with everybody."

"You can cook now?" Bellamy asks, raising one eyebrow.

"I'm no chef but we get by." She runs her fingers through Max's hair like she used to do to Bellamy when he'd put his head in her lap. "If you have plans, obviously no pressure, but we'd love to have you."

"I never turn down a free meal." He slants his eyes at Max. "A very important life lesson."

Clarke texts him their address and he beats them home by a couple of minutes. Max drags him straight upstairs to show him his superhero action figures and when Bellamy reminds him to ask if his mom needs help, Clarke just smiles and shoos them off for some time alone. She's had him for seven years. She thinks she can manage for thirty minutes on her own.

Over their meal, Bellamy lets Max ask him anything he wants. It's mostly questions about which superhero he prefers in a choice between two, but Bellamy considers each one thoughtfully and always gives him a serious answer.

"Do you have any pets?" Max asks suddenly, perking up.

"I have a turtle in my classroom. His name is Terrence and he's about nine years old."

"Oh," Max says, dejected.

"What?" The corners of Bellamy's mouth curl up and he shoots Clarke an amused look. "You don't think turtles are cool?"

"Kinda," he shrugs.

"Somebody has been campaigning for a family dog," Clarke fills Bellamy in. "But I want to get the backyard fenced in first."

"We could keep him inside," Max points out.

"Dogs don't like that very much," Bellamy tells him. "Your mom is making a good call. But--" He casts her a hesitant look. "I worked construction for a while after high school. I could help you put in a fence."

"Really?" Max says, bouncing in his seat at the same time that Clarke says, "You really don't have to--"

"I don't mind," Bellamy tells her, quiet. "I don't want to step on your toes--"

"Then you shouldn't have mentioned it in front of the k-i-d before you ran it past me," Clarke tells him in an equally low voice, but she smiles ruefully at him to make sure he knows she isn't really upset.

Max frowns. "I know that spells kid."

"Yeah, nothing gets past you," she teases, ruffling his hair. He bats her hand away and scowls harder, turning to sulk into his pasta. Clarke bites her lip, considering. "If Bellamy really doesn't mind, and you promise to help him, I guess it's okay. I bet Aunt Raven would even let you borrow her tools."

"I promise!" Max says quickly.

"Then it's fine by me." She looks up at Bellamy again, surprised to find him watching her instead of their son. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes until he looks back to Max again and her stomach twists.

She lets Bellamy take the evening chores-- washing the dishes for Max to dry, helping him get his teeth brushed and pajamas on, getting him to read a couple of chapters of his book aloud. She goes to tuck him in only after Bellamy has, perching beside him and brushing his hair out of his face. His eyes are drooping but he's still fighting to keep them open.

Having his dad around is apparently too exciting for him to give in to sleep just yet.

"Good day?" She asks, grinning when he smiles and nods.

"Can we get a big dog? I like the big ones."

"First things first, we need a fence." She leans down and kisses his forehead. "Night, sweetie. I love you."

"Love you too," he mumbles, already half gone.

She descends the stairs slowly, the emotional heights of the day-- good though they may have been-- having thoroughly exhausted her. Bellamy seems to feel the same way. She finds him slumped on the couch, his head tilted all the way back toward the ceiling. Clarke eases down next to him and he looks over at her when he feels the couch shift.

"For someone who got pushed into the deep end with the whole fatherhood thing, you did really well today," she tells him. He gives one short laugh.

"He's awesome." His eyes droop, just like Max's had earlier. "Sorry I kind of invited myself over on that fence project. You're right, I should've checked it with you before I said anything to him."

"It's fine. I really have been meaning to hire someone to do it, just hadn't gotten around to it yet."

"Yeah, but-- it means I'll probably be here a lot."

"I kind of figured you would be," she teases, resisting the urge to poke him with her foot like she used to years and years ago. "I never doubted for a second you'd be here if you knew."

He takes this in silently, his face sad as he chews on the thought. "When can I see him again?"

"Whenever you want." She pulls her knees to her chest and curls in on herself, watching his shoulders rise and fall as he breathes. It's still so strange, having him here. Strange, but wonderful. "I split carpool duty with another single parent but we could get you worked into the rotation if you want. And then you guys could hang out after you pick him up."

"A couple of times a week," he murmurs. "It's a start anyways. I'll probably need to get a seat for him in my car. You think we could set up a room for him at my place?"

"I think he'd love that," Clarke says, her chest feeling tight at the thought of Max regularly spending nights away from her. "Of course, you're welcome here whenever you want."

"I'd move in tomorrow if you let me," he admits softly. "I can't believe I missed so much. I don't know if it'll ever really feel like we've made up all that lost time."

"I know." She presses her lips together. "I get it if you-- I don't expect you to forgive me that easily. I know it'll take some time."

His eyes open and he blinks at her, confused. "I'm not mad, Clarke. Not at you, anyways. I don't even really want to be mad at you."

The vice around her heart begins to unclench and she feels all of a sudden as if she can breathe again.

"But you are angry."

He works his jaw. "I forgot how transparent you make me feel."

"You're all heart, Blake, and you wear it on your sleeve," she teases. "Come on, fess up."

"It's just--" He rolls his eyes and huffs. "I thought I was done resenting my mom, but apparently that's a train that never stops running."

Clarke laughs, hollow. "Do you think Max is going to resent me? When he gets old enough to understand."

"Clarke, _no_." Bellamy sits up, his eyes wide open now. His expression is so earnest it makes tears prick hot and stinging at the corners of her eyes. "You've raised a happy, healthy, great kid. It's so obvious how secure he feels, that he could open up to a stranger the way he did today. He might not be able to articulate it at seven," he grants, reaching out to grasp her hand. "But he doesn't feel deprived of anything, and you made sure of that."

She squeezes his hand, grounding herself in his touch. Funny how that still works after so long apart.

"I'm really glad you're back," she tells him.

"Yeah," he says, voice thick. "I am too."

* * *

The one and only issue with Bellamy being back in her life, the one thing she can't seem to get used to, is her unfortunate attraction to him.

Clarke hasn't gotten a crush she couldn't shake in years. She hasn't had the time. She might find a stranger attractive or flirt casually with someone, given the chance, but she never falls hard unless their personality comes into play. Ever since Max was born she hasn't let herself get close enough to anyone for that.

Until Bellamy.

Bellamy, who is good with their kid, who loves him with his whole heart from the get-go (because that's how Bellamy operates). Bellamy who makes her heart burst when she sees him and Max bonding, and to whom she feels unspeakable gratitude when he stands by her side in the tougher moments. Who backs up her plays, defers to her parenting expertise (at least until Max has gone to bed, which is when he tells her what he really thinks, and sometimes even makes Clarke change her mind).

But he's also still Bellamy with a permanent layer of stubble, with broad shoulders and a strong jaw and eyes she wants to drown in. Bellamy who looks just as good in his dorky t-shirts and glasses as he does in his undershirt, toting a two by four for the fence.

She wants to taste every inch of him and then fall asleep in his arms. She _wants_.

But she doesn't know if she can _have_. Even if he were still interested in her, years after the last time they slept together, she doesn't know how she'd even begin to handle dating Max's dad. She's not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.

"You're an idiot," Raven tells her, watching carefully through the window as Bellamy puts his hands over Max's to help him use the drill. Clarke can't hear her son's laughter over all the noise but if the look on his face is anything to go by, he's loving every second of this. If only because Bellamy is teaching it to him.

"I never knew for sure that he wanted to date me back in the day. Now I don't even know if he wants to sleep with me." Clarke shakes her head. "We're all still adjusting, figuring out where his place is in Max's life. I don't want to make things more complicated."

"Having him move in with you guys-- directly into your bed, might I add-- would actually simplify a lot," Raven points out. "Why get the munchkin used to splitting time between you if you don't have to?"

"I'm not sure it's worth the risk, Raven. If it didn't work with us... I can't lose him again."

"What happened to your unfailing certainty that he'd want to stick around for Max?"

"I don't mean from Max's life. He'd never disappear on him like that, not even if he couldn't be around me anymore." She shakes her head. "I just got him back, Raven. _I_ did. And I'm not alone in this anymore. Not that--"

"No, I know," she assures Clarke. "It's different than having me or your parents or Wells. We're warming the bench. You guys are on the field."

"A sports metaphor?" She raises one eyebrow. Raven smirks at her.

"I've been watching a lot of _Friday Night Lights_. Get over it." Raven sizes her up, fingers tapping restlessly on the counter. "So what's the plan? You pine from afar indefinitely?"

"It's less of a plan and more of an inevitability," Clarke sighs, distracted by both the size and confidence of Bellamy's hands and their gentleness with Max.

He catches her eye through the window and flashes her a grin before turning back to Max. Raven snorts.

"Let me know how that works out for you."

"Don't worry," Clarke grumbles, dropping her head to rest on her folded arms. "You'll definitely keep hearing about it."

Raven mercifully changes the subject, complaining about a customer who tried to (incorrectly) mansplain his engine problems to her while Clarke rants about a client who recently found out she's a woman and has become way more difficult for it, and by the time Bellamy and Max come inside they're safely in non-romantic conversation mode.

"Hot out there?" Clarke asks as Max goes over to the fridge and just stands in front of the open door, sighing in relief.

"Really hot," he agrees.

"Don't let the cold out," Bellamy reprimands gently, lifting the hem of his own shirt to wipe at the sweat on his face. Clarke tries, she really does, not to check him out, but his abs are _right there_ , toned and tan and firm. She blushes and looks away before he can catch her looking. Raven gives her a knowing smirk.

"I think you guys have earned some ice cream," Raven says, getting up and pushing the fridge closed with her hip. "What do you think, Max? Want to come help me pick some up?"

"Mom, can I?" He turns imploring eyes on Clarke and she pretends to have to think it over.

"Well... I guess you have been working pretty hard out there. Hang on, I think I have some cash in my wallet."

Bellamy is already reaching for his as well, but Raven waves them off. "I'm the cool aunt, remember? I get to be the one who spoils him."

"Like you'd ever let me forget," Clarke laughs. "Have fun guys."

"We'll be back soon."

The house feels a lot quieter without Max in it, and all of a sudden Clarke is very aware that she's alone with Bellamy in a way she really hasn't been since they were kids. They've always been out in public together, or had Max sleeping upstairs. She's grateful his back is to her, washing his hands in the sink, as she wills her blush away. They're not teenagers sneaking around while they have the house to themselves. They're adults. And they're not like that anymore.

"You hungry?" Bellamy asks, leaning against the counter and drying his hands on a dish towel. "I know Raven is filling Max up on ice cream but I'm starving. I figured I could whip something up for the two of us."

"Yeah because you haven't done enough in the past couple of hours," Clarke teases. "I was thinking about ordering pizzas and salad from that family place down the street. That way I can keep being lazy and you can start."

Bellamy smirks at her. "I like the way you think."

He changes into a clean t-shirt before he lets himself collapse on the couch. Clarke settles next to him, closer than feels safe, yet not as close as she really wants to be. She hands him a beer from the back of her fridge and he lets a tired hand fall to her knee in thanks.

"Parenting is hard work, huh?" She teases, trying to ignore the fresh calluses on his hands, the warmth that seeps from them into her skin.

"So is fence building," he laughs, but squeezes her knee gently. "I don't know how you did it on your own for so long. I mean-- I do. You're the strongest person I know. But I have a new appreciation for that these days."

"You're pretty impressive yourself. I know it's only been a few weeks, but-- he thinks the world of you, Bell. It's 'Dad this' and 'Dad that' 24/7 over here."

His hand twitches. "He calls me Dad?"

"Yeah, of course he does. He doesn't call you that to your face?"

"He doesn't call me anything most of the time, but when he does it's still Bellamy."

"He might be waiting for permission," Clarke says thoughtfully. "I can talk to him about it if you want."

"I'd like to, if you don't mind."

"Of course not." She pauses, then rests her head on his shoulder, gratified when he immediately leans his head against hers. "This whole co-parenting thing is great."

"Yeah?" He laughs. "I guess you wouldn't get much of a break over the summer."

"That's what camp is for. And he can entertain himself pretty well if I need to get work done."

"Still."

"Still."

They sit like that for a moment, leeching off of each other's strength, and Clarke thinks she could stay like this forever.

"Do you date?" Bellamy asks after a brief silence. Clarke's breath catches in her throat.

"What?"

"Have do you handle all of that? As a parent."

"Oh." Her heart is pounding in her chest but when she speaks her tone stays pretty even. "I'm usually not looking for anything more than a hookup. The dates I've been on since I had Max have mostly been letdowns, so... I guess I put that part of my life on hold."

"I get that," he sighs, taking his hand off her knee and running the other one through his hair. "There's this counselor at school." Her heart falls and she picks her head up off his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

He nods. "I was working up to asking her out. It's not like we're in love or anything, she just always seemed pretty cool. But I want to spend all my free time with him right now, you know? I don't have a lot of time for a relationship, much less a new one."

"I know," Clarke says, her stomach churning uncomfortably.

He's into someone else, which she supposes is good to know. Even if it doesn't seem like he's going to start dating this girl right away, he still might. One day. And if not her, then someone else. Better to try to get over him now than to let her feelings for him go any further.

"I always thought about your mom," she admits. "Bringing guys home all the time, making your house a place you and Octavia didn't feel safe. I don't want that for Max."

He hums in agreement. "I don't think I could see myself starting anything with anyone unless I knew for sure I was serious about them. And that they were good with him."

"Sorry to say, your social life is going to take a pretty hit with this whole parenting thing."

Bellamy laughs. "Yeah, but it's worth it."

"Totally."

Raven seems disappointed to come home and find them watching and bickering over Iron Chef, but Clarke shoots her a look and she relents. She stays for dinner and Bellamy stays through the bedtime routine, letting Clarke walk him to the door only after Max is long asleep, leaning in the doorframe, bare feet pressed on top of each other.

"Thanks for having me over all the time," he says, pausing on the porch.

"You don't have to thank me. I told you, I want you here. In his life. I always have."

He searches her face and for a split second, Clarke thinks he might lean in to kiss her. Instead, he just rocks back on his heels and gives her half a tired smile.

"You know," she says softly. "You don't have to go. We have a guest room here. You could be here when he wakes up."

His smile grows. "What am I even paying rent on my apartment for? I should just move in here."

"That's a conversation for a different day," she says easily. "Come on, I'll show you where it is."

She gets him set up with a towel and a spare toothbrush but as soon as they flip on the light to the guest room they hit a snag.

"Uh-- Where's the bed?"

"It's under there." She gazes forlornly at the mess of art supplies and half-painted canvases and stacks of tax forms that are scattered across the room, burying all the furniture and rendering it essentially unusable. "This is the problem with leaving our shit out in here. We're never prepared for unexpected guests."

"If they're unexpected, you shouldn't be prepared for them anyway," Bellamy points out. "It's really fine, Clarke. I can go home. Or-- I could sleep on the couch?"

"You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Just this once." His voice goes soft. "I really liked the idea of being here in the morning."

"You're not sleeping on the couch," Clarke says again, with finality. "I have a Queen bed. There's plenty of room for both of us in it."

"A Queen for a Princess," he teases. "You sure? I don't want to put you out."

"I'd be more put out if you slept on the couch or went home." She cuts the light off and jerks her head. "This way, roomie."

It feels strange to limit herself to one side of the bed as she messes around on her phone and waits for Bellamy to be done in the shower. She's gotten used to having tons of space and usually ends up sprawling diagonally across the mattress. She makes a mental note to warn him she might smack him with a flailing arm in the middle of the night.

But any plans, any words, die on her tongue when Bellamy comes out of the bathroom, hair dripping, with only his Ark High holiday fair t-shirt and boxers on. Clarke might have a permanently altered mind, she's so struck by her need for him and her fondness of him at the same time.

He freezes when he notices her staring. "Is this okay?" He asks, looking down self-consciously. "I can put my jeans back on if you want, but-- I'd really rather not."

"No, get as comfortable as you want," she says, clearing her throat and throwing back the blankets in a clear invitation. He smiles, oblivious to her internal struggle, and plugs his phone in to her spare charger before sliding in next to her.

His warmth and weight are instantly familiar, recalling memories of the last time they shared a bed (and didn't sleep at all). He lets out a long sigh as his muscles relax into the mattress and she turns the lights out, hoping that if she can't see him she'll somehow be less aware of him there with her.

"It's weird to be here again," he says into the dark.

Clarke pauses. "Good weird or bad weird?"

"Neither." She feels him roll over and when he speaks again, it sounds like he's turned to face her. "Just-- Brings back old memories."

Clarke rolls to face him as well. "We never did this part. The platonic sleepover."

"With our son asleep down the hall."

She hums, her eyes closing. "New memories," she decides.

"New memories," he agrees. And then, "I really missed you, Clarke."

She can feel herself slipping off into sleep but she reaches out and pats his hand, a brief, light touch. "You have no idea."

* * *

She wakes because she's warm. Too warm. Stiflingly warm.

It doesn't occur to her at first that she's warm because there's an extra body in her bed. It's only when she realizes that in her sleep she somehow wriggled her way to the center of the bed, and that Bellamy's arm around her is not to cuddle but to physically keep himself from falling off, that she remembers he's even there.

She tries to scoot away from him but he tightens his grip, grunting unhappily and pulling her close to his chest. She blinks, disoriented, and manages to get him to let her turn to face him.

When she does, he's got one eye cracked open to glare at her.

"What are you doing?" He grumbles.

"Trying to get free." His arm slackens around her and she moves back far enough to feel a cooler spot in the sheets. She's still far too close for her own good, far too affected by early morning Bellamy for her own sanity.

"Better?" He huffs when she finally settles again.

"Not yet." She reaches for him again. "You're going to roll onto the floor if you even breathe wrong."

"And whose fault is that?" He demands, but comes when she tugs on his arm. In fact, he comes farther than she means him to and they wind up pressed together again, his arm heavy on her waist, the scent of her soap clinging to his skin. She thinks about protesting but with her legs hanging outside the blankets and a cooler pillow spot under her flushed cheeks, she's not as uncomfortable as she was before.

"What time do you have to be up?" He mumbles after a moment.

"I have a call at nine thirty, dropping Max at camp around nine fifteen. So... soon, probably."

"I can drop him off." His eyes are still closed but he sounds more awake by the second. "Today is just setting up classroom stuff this morning, so I can be in a little later than usual."

"Plus you want to."

"Plus I want to," he agrees, smirking. It's a lot to handle. "You think he'll be weirded out that I spent the night?"

"If anything, he'll ask if we can put bunk beds in his room so you can sleep in there."

Bellamy laughs and his eyes finally open, a warm brown and full of mirth. "Tempting."

"I bet he'd let you have bottom bunk."

"That's gracious of him."

They give each other equally amused grins, eyes meeting, and Clarke feels like she can't breathe for a moment. This was a terrible plan. A wonderfully terrible plan.

Their gazes stay locked for long enough Clarke wonders again if he's about to kiss her. His smile fades, his eyes darkening, and when she bites her lip, she swears he follows the motion. Too half-asleep to remember all the reasons she had for resisting him, spurred forward by his interest, her mind blank the way it only goes in proximity to him, she inches closer to him until her lips and his are just a breath away. He remains perfectly still. His breathing is ragged, his eyes already closed, and she's just tangling her hand in his hair when--

"Mom, do we have any Froot Loops?"

Bellamy flinches away from her, the horror in his eyes ripping Clarke's heart from her chest as he goes. She retreats to her own side of the bed, trying to get ahold of herself as he shimmies into his pants and very pointedly doesn't look at her.

"If they're not in the cupboard, we're out," she calls to Max, sitting up slowly. "You know where we keep the grocery list."

"I'll go help him look," Bellamy mutters, leaving the room before Clarke can get a word in edgewise. Her throat feels tight, choked up, and she has to take several calming breaths before she gets up and starts getting ready.

Not screwing things up between them was the one goal she'd had, and in a moment of-- she doesn't even know what-- she let her guard down, let herself forget, and failed to follow her own simple rule.

She has to fix this. She _has_ to.

Bellamy is joking around with Max when she finally makes it downstairs but his motions are a little jerky, like he's putting them on instead of letting them come naturally. He makes eye contact when she walks in and quickly looks away, only addressing their son when he speaks and keeping a good three feet between himself and Clarke at all times.

She follows his lead, not wanting to make a scene in front of Max, and only when they've left for camp does she let her regret off its leash. The counter is hard and cold in her tight grasp but it doesn't manage to ground her, doesn't manage to soothe the burning in her throat.

It's nothing to cry about, she tells herself sternly. Nothing profuse apologies can't fix.

Well, things between her and Bellamy anyway.

Her broken heart might take a little more time.

* * *

She's distracted all morning, her client call taking twice as long as it ought to. Trying to lose herself in her work doesn't do much good, seeing as her mind straying from every task she sets it to.

Going to Raven isn't an option-- she doesn't want to tell half a story, doesn't need advice. She knows what she needs and wants to do, which is to talk to Bellamy. But she doesn't want to accost him at work, nor does she want to have it out in front of Max, which leaves them with a problem if he continues to avoid her.

But then, that's only ever been her style. Every one of his instincts is to fight, fleeing never an option. Which is why it's only a relief and not a surprise when a knock on the door at lunchtime reveals him standing there with a bag full of food.

"You eat yet?" He asks, pushing past her before she can answer. She blinks and shuts the door.

"No, actually, and I'm starving."

"Happy coincidence."

She moves tentatively to stand beside him, taking the sandwich he offers and trying not to look directly at him. Whatever piece of her was panicking has been silenced and stilled at the sight of him, but his presence chafes against the piece of her that's already raw.

"I'm sorry," he says after a minute of picking at their food. "For the way I reacted earlier. We should've had this conversation then instead of me running out the door. If we're going to parent together, we need to-- _I_ need-- to communicate better."

Clarke shakes her head. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable." She lets her eyes flicker up but meeting his gaze is too much so she looks back down to her sandwich and tries for a closed-lipped smile. "Respecting boundaries is a thing I've been trying to teach Max and here I am crossing them myself."

"I could've _communicated_ where my boundaries were a little better."

She does smile at him now, out of reflex mostly. "Do you need your thing to one-up my thing? Is that how we make this right?"

"You're just upset you're losing at making up."

"Yeah, that must be it." She rolls her eyes, tension in her chest easing at the familiarity and ease with which it comes. "So-- I'd love to help you get a room ready for Max at your place, and I do want to make our guest room livable for you too. You could leave some clothes, extra contacts... whatever you want. But it's probably best if we don't have any more sleepovers."

"Probably." He sighs. "It'd be nice to get a drawer and a toothbrush here. I just-- I can't fall back into old patterns. I don't think we want the same things and I don't want it to hurt Max."

"Me either. I don't want you to feel like you can't be here without things being weird."

"I don't feel that way."

"Good." She pauses. "I promise I won't let my feelings affect what you and Max-- or you and I-- have. The past month has been so great. I could never jeopardize that."

Bellamy frowns. "Your feelings."

"Yeah."

"You have feelings for me?"

"Yeah." Her face colors. "I thought that much was obvious after this morning."

"It wasn't." His voice is flat, unreadable. Clarke ducks her head.

"I guess communication is the key after all. But like I said, I promise it won't--"

"You said you weren't looking for anything but a hookup." His voice is a little accusatory and it raises Clarke's hackles.

"From strangers. From casual acquaintances. Not--" She makes a frustrated noise. "It was never just a hookup with you. Not in high school, and not this morning."

There's a long moment where he doesn't say anything, though she can see his mind moving at a furious pace as he replays everything that happened between them. His eyes are blazing, his shoulders drawn tight, and she's working up to another apology when he crosses the two steps between them.

Kissing Bellamy didn't make the top five things she missed about him over the years, but not for lack of trying. It consumes every bit of her, drowning out the chaos in her mind, lighting her soul on fire. His hands cup her face and she clings to his sides, needing to steady herself before her knees buckle.

In his kiss she can taste his passion, and then, as it tempers, his care. She doesn't dare to call it love. She isn't brave enough.

When he draws back, he only goes far enough to brush his nose against hers, their foreheads touching.

Clarke wets her lips and tries to get her bearings. "You said we want different things."

"I thought you were looking to get laid."

"I am looking to get laid."

He laughs softly and tucks a curl behind her ear. "But not just that."

"No, not just." She tilts her head to the side when his lips brush lightly against her jaw, giving him more access even as her mind is still playing catch-up. "You said you didn't want a new relationship."

"You call this new?"

Her fingers thread in his hair and she tugs gently until he looks up at her again.

"You also said you wouldn't start anything unless you were serious about them."

"I know." He sobers. "My feelings for you are serious. The most serious."

She kisses him again, can't help it. "Mine are too."

"I know. Or-- I knew if you ever felt anything for me, they would have to be serious." He grins against her lips. "You're serious about everything."

She opens her mouth to protest and he takes advantage smoothly, licking into her mouth and distracting her.

"I can be fun," she grumbles, nipping at his lip.

He bands his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Prove it."

Predictably, Clarke rises to the challenge and they don't get to continue their conversation until much later. She's got her head on his chest, basking in the last twenty minutes to laze about before she has to get dressed and go pick up Max.

"What are we telling the kid?" She wonders.

"No bunk beds necessary."

She swats at his abs and he laughs, pulling her closer.

"I don't think we have to tell him much unless he asks. You've explained dating to him before, right?"

"Sure, but it's never made much of an impact on him beyond spending a night at Grandma and Grandpa's."

"Cool, then we get to figure it out together." He kisses the top of her head. Clarke smiles and closes her eyes.

"I'm _really_ liking this whole co-parenting thing."

"Yeah," Bellamy laughs, soft. "Me too."


End file.
